Page 38 of Wrapped Up at the Vintage Dress Shop
‘Oh, would you!’ Nina squeezed Phoebe’s arm affectionately. It was the first time in days that Phoebe felt as if she’d done the right thing. Then, as Noah arrived at the foot of the stairs, followed by Claude, Phoebe could say with genuine sincerity, ‘Congratulations on bagging such a beautiful bride.’
Noah grinned. ‘I know I’m punching . . .’
He and Nina were an odd match. She was a vintage queen, hair and make-up always on point, while Noah was a self-confessed nerd in his navy blue jumpers, but they clearly made each other happy. He was a definite improvement on Nina’s past boyfriends, each one wronger than the last.
Phoebe couldn’t help but sigh. Her sigh got even longer and louder as she saw that behind Noah and Claude was Freddy.
Their eyes met and Phoebe immediately looked away. Not so Coco Chanel who struggled to free herself from Nina’s embrace.
Marianne picked Coco up to pass her to Claude who handed her to Freddy, who immediately cuddled her close to his chest so she could give his face a thorough tongue bath.
Then no one said anything, as if the frosty atmosphere between Phoebe and Freddy was covering everyone in its chilly embrace.
‘I need a drink,’ Nina said, although she still had an almost full glass of punch, a sentiment that was echoed by the others who quickly disappeared, leaving just Phoebe and Freddy alone to glare at each other.
Or rather Phoebe did the glaring. It was Freddy’s turn to sigh. ‘How long are you going to keep giving me the cold shoulder?’ he asked roughly.
Phoebe couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. ‘You’ve treated me abominably this week, Freddy. You knew what happened in the shop last Saturday. I thought we’d sorted things out on the weekend and then on Monday morning, once that stupid girl made that stupid video go viral, you were suddenly treating me like I was Public Enemy Number One.’
‘I hadn’t seen the stupid video until Monday morning and, honestly, Pheebs, it was quite a rude awakening,’ Freddy said dully, like he didn’t even have the energy for a proper argument.
Luckily Phoebe did. ‘You should have stuck up for me, but you punished me instead. You’re meant to be on my side.’
Freddy’s shoulders dropped. Even his messy mop top of curls seemed to lack its usual energy. ‘Sometimes it’s very hard to be on your side.’
‘Yet it’s very easy to keep secrets from me.’ Phoebe folded her arms. ‘You didn’t tell me that you and Cress are in cahoots . . .’
‘It’s hardly cahoots. We’ve had a conversation. One conversation . . .’
‘About her designing a range of reproduction dresses.’ Phoebe was outraged all over again. ‘You know how I feel about reproduction vintage clothes.’
‘Well, you know that I think that’s ridiculous,’ Freddy snapped back because he was clearly getting his second wind.
‘The worst thing, the thing that’s hardest to forgive, is that you didn’t tell me that the shop, my shop, is struggling to break even and that we’re all going to end up on the street. Is that why you agreed to let Sophy rent out her dresses?’
‘It’s one of the reasons but also because it makes good financial sense.’ Freddy shifted Coco in his arms. ‘I didn’t tellyou because I knew you’d kick off and start catastrophising about ending up on the street when that isn’t even a remote possibility. But it will be if you insist on gatekeeping the dresses. It’s a business, Pheebs. We are meant to actually sell dresses to anyone who wants to buy them.’
‘I know it’s a business. FYI, I sold over three thousand pounds of dresses to just one customer today . . .’
‘I thought we agreed you wouldn’t be interfacing with the public right now?’ Freddy asked in a deceptively mild voice, though his posture was stiff, even with Coco Chanel loving on him. ‘And what about all those prospective customers you’ve turned away because they don’t fit into the narrow criteria that you have for allowing people into the shop, never mind actually trying something on?’
This was very unfair. ‘Forgive me for weeding out time-wasters or people with sticky hands so we have to spend money having the stock cleaned,’ she said huffily.
Phoebe didn’t want to be huffy with Freddy. Even though this week had been awful, it had been, much to her annoyance, full of teachable moments.
‘I’m making an effort,’ Phoebe said tightly. ‘I’ve come up with a new way of doing the photos for the website, which I think will be more effective, and I helped a prospective bride to find a dress when she was intent on walking down the aisle in a bias-cut gown that did her no favours and I’ve even reached a new understanding with Sophy, who by the way actuallybeggedme to come up to the atelier.’
‘We can’t have a repeat of what happened with Rosie Roberts,’ Freddy persisted.
Phoebe was fed up with talking about Rosie Roberts and Freddy not cutting her even the tiniest amount of slack. She stood up and stomped down the stairs, pausing only to take Coco from Freddy, who struggled as if she’d much prefer to stay with him rather than with the woman who’d rescued herfrom her former cruel owner then given her a life of unparalleled luxury.
‘Sorry for being too much for you,’ Phoebe said icily. She would have liked to majestically sweep back into the party but there were so many people that Phoebe couldn’t majestically do anything. She had to squeeze her way through instead.
She formally introduced Nina to Cress and if the shop went to rack and ruin because its alterations expert was too busy designing her own dresses, then so be it.
Feeling miserable and out of sorts was always going to be amplified, when you were squeezed into a tiny flat full of people enjoying themselves.
It was time for what Mildred called ‘the French goodbye’, though in all the time that Phoebe had known Mildred, she’d never once attended a party. ‘But in my younger days I did and I quickly learned that when one wants to leave an event, it’s highly likely that one will miss the last bus home, if you stop to say goodbye to people. Far better to just do what the French do and leave without saying goodbye but send a letter of thanks to the hosts within the week.’
